"Announcing the Lady Maeve Anderson, Knight of Kirkwall, Elf of the North!" Fiolya shouted to the mixed cheers and heckling of the crowd.

I took slow, calming breaths as I stared down my opponent. I had to, because I'd literally just finished my last bout five minutes ago. The Antivan bastard had been good, very good. He'd gotten me twice, then showboated by landing a cut on my arm just for the hell of it, letting me get my third point while he pranced around proclaiming his superiority.

For once I hadn't gotten many boos for winning. I don't think anyone had really wanted him to move ahead.

Winning my third match had been nice, but as usual I hadn't been able to risk healing from a Mage not named Anders or Merrill. And with Meredith right over there, they weren't exactly available as options. I'd had to down a quick potion instead, which had closed up the cuts, but left me feeling even more exhausted than I already had been. With no time to eat or do more than drink a few gulps of water, I wasn't even close to feeling prepared for another round.

"Announcing the Lady Juelina Barthet, Knight of Ferelden, Sworn Sword to Arl Bryland!"

For once my opponent was closer to my size rather than being someone I had to crane my neck back to stare at. Of course that was about where the similarities ended; Barthet was a petite brick of muscle who looked like she could pick me up and shake me with one hand.

She was also the first opponent to actually walk up to me after the referee sent our squires to their positions at the edges of the arena.

"Dame Maeve." Her free hand extended forward. "I'd have preferred to fight you fresh, but it seems we have no choice in this."

I blinked in surprise, then cautiously shook her hand. "I'd have preferred that as well, Dame Barthet. You beat Reeve Asa in the first round, didn't you?"

Her smile transformed plain features into something grander. "I did. You watched?"

"I did." I admitted. "You tore her apart."

"Bah, she was hardly trying, just using it to stretch her legs before the tilts." She waved off my words, both of us backing up at the referee's cough. "I hope that you shall watch me when I reach the finals as well."

That drew a chuckle, sword rising to en garde. "Nothing personal, but I'm going to do my best to stop you from getting there."

She chuckled as well, "I expect nothing less."

The referee shook his helmet, angling his spear between us. "If the ladies are finished? Prêts?"

We both nodded, smiles fading into focused stares.

"Allez!"

Barthet was on me in a heartbeat, forcing me into a frantic retreat with sequence of quick slashes. I parried or blocked each, but she was too damned fast for me to get off a good riposte. Her own feet carried her in a quick motion to my left, never settling, forcing me to keep moving as well to stop her from attacking my weak side.

Her raw strength broke my guard on the sixth exchange, a stinging pain appearing in my shoulder.

"Point! Dame Barthet!"

Dammit she was good! I upped my speed, retreating out of range just long enough to get a deep breath in me, get my feet planted before she caught up to renew her assault.

Our blades met once again, ringing as they collided. I parried a beat, side-stepping, lashing out with a slash that she barely caught on her blade. She feinted a riposte, retreated when I moved to parry, then fell into a quick lunge at the same time as I made to thrust.

"Double touch!"

Feeling the blood trickling down my ribs, I broke contact once again, my opponent allowing it as she backed off as well. Her free hand dropped to her stomach, checking her wound there. As far as I knew it was the first cut she'd taken in the tournament thus far, so at least I'd done something worthwhile.

She grinned, bringing her sword up in a quick salute. I returned it a little more shakily, still trying to catch my breath once again. The trembling in my legs really wasn't helping.

And the trembling didn't get any better when she brought her blade around, advancing laterally to my left once again. Bracing myself, I matched her strides, sword up and ready for her.

Impacts began shaking my arms when we met once again, feet shifting right as I tried to match her circling motion. Her wild grin stayed in placed through three, four, then five exchanges. She ducked a frantic cut I snuck in, then spun away from a follow-up thrust I sent at her.

Her feet stumbled slightly on the uneven ground, and I finally had a chance to drive forward. I feinted twice, then cut at her shoulder. She parried it, blocked the beat I tried to follow up with, then forced me back with a pair of quick slashes.

It was my turn to retreat, my foot striking the same rough patch she had, sending me off balance.

Barthet fell into an immediate lunge, sword aimed for my chest.

She was halfway through the motion when her face twisted in pain, and her forward knee buckled with a quiet popping sound.

I still only barely jumped back in time to avoid being cut as she collapsed sideways, her sword dropping to the grass so that her hands could clutch at her leg. "Maker's balls!"

"Hold!" The referee barked, moving in as I lowered my sword. "Dame Barthet?"

"Fuck." She gasped, "I'm fine, just twisted something. I can resume."

The ref kept his spear out between us, but he nodded, "Rise, lady. We shall resume when you are set."

She got her good leg under her, pushing up, but the moment she tried to plant her other leg it buckled again. I would have moved to catch her if not for the spear in the way, leaving her to collapse in a heap for a second time.

Fuck. ACL maybe? Something had clearly torn, and torn badly enough that she wasn't getting up anytime soon.

Barthet swore again, awkwardly trying to keep her right leg out while kneeling on the other. "I... my knee..."

"Does the lady forfeit?" The referee asked, his voice solemn.

Her jaw set, looking away from her leg to stare at me. "I've never quit a match or tilt, and I will not start now. Dame Maeve may finish it."

I shook my head at once. "Hell no. You had me and we both know it. I'm not cutting you while you're trapped on the ground. Give me one more cut, the match is yours."

"I will not accept charity." She countered.

"It's not charity." I scowled down at her, "I'm not claiming a win I didn't earn. Pick your damned sword and give me a cut so I can help haul you over to the mages. The longer that knee swells the harder it's going to be for them to fix."

The ref pulled his spear back, stepping away, letting me walk up to her. The crowd was buzzing, clearly uncertain as to what the hell was going on.

She still didn't take up her sword, lifting her chin. "No. End it."

I let out a ragged exhale, dropping to a knee before her. When I spoke again it was in a harsh whisper. "Juelina. I'm an elf. I can't score points on a wounded woman who can't defend herself. Even with Meredith here, I'd be lynched before noon. If you refuse to forfeit, but I let you get the last touch, we both walk away looking honorable."

Dull blue eyes blinked rapidly, then she closed them, swearing under her breath. "Dammit. Give me my sword."

Grabbing it with my free hand, I passed it over. Another groan came as she got herself better settled on the ground, eyeing my pale chest. "Where?"

"Pick a scar." I said, bracing myself.

She nodded once, and her sword rose to lightly prick the thick mess of scars over my intestines. I barely felt it, but it was enough for the referee to shout out that she had won the duel. I tuned him out in favor of grabbing the arm on her wounded side, getting the limb over my shoulders.

"Thank you." She murmured was we got her up, "I would not have done that in your position."

"I didn't want to." I admitted, helping get her turned around. "I like winning as much as the next girl... but I had to."

"I understand." There was a sigh as her squire scrambled over, taking her other arm. "I trust I will see you in the crowd at the finals?"

Assuming magic could do better than twenty-first century medicine, get her knee repaired that quickly. "I'll be there if you are."

"I intend to be."

I found myself vaguely hoping that she was right, if only because she'd been my first opponent to actually talk to me like a regular person. Plus, well, she'd beaten me. If she won the entire thing I'd feel a bit better about her kicking my ass.

Between her squire and I we got her over to the mages, who directed us to get her laid out on a cot just outside of the arena. I helped until she was laid out, then beat a quick retreat before the mage on duty could get too close to me.

Fiolya caught up just after that, a small red vial in her hands. She pushed the little potion into mine, leaning in to whisper. "Hurry, lady. Meredith is coming to check on you."

Grimacing, I pulled the stopper out and took a quick swig. The tepid, vaguely minty syrup didn't taste any better than it ever did, but a single mouthful would hopefully be enough for my little cuts. Enough to make sure Meredith didn't insist one of her mages tend to me.

The nicks and cuts had just finished closing with a low tingle of sensation, and another wave of exhaustion, when Meredith strode into view along with Trevalyan and a pair of Templar guards.

"That," The Knight-Commander informed me, drawing up a few paces away, "was nobly done, serrah."

"Knight-Commander." I brought my fist to my heart as I always did on meeting her. As usual she seemed to appreciate being saluted, her smile remaining in place as she casually returned the gesture. "It was the only way for us to end it at that point."

She chuckled. "You mean the only way that wouldn't see you hiding behind my skirts for the remainder of the tourney."

"Same thing really." I fought down the urge to smile. Meredith may have liked me, even bantered with me on occasion, but she'd also execute me in a heartbeat if she knew I had magic. "Apologies for not going farther in the tournament."

That earned me a dismissive wave of a hand. "It is of no matter. You performed well enough not to shame this March, and that was all that I asked of you. Will you be remaining for the afternoon tilts?"

"Probably not. I think I'm going to go back to Varric's estate, get cleaned up, then try and catch up on my sleep."

"Very well." Meredith looked me up and down one last time, "I trust that I will see you at tomorrow's inspection of the new Alienage barracks?"

"I'll be there, messere." I promised.

"Good." Giving everyone a final nod, Meredith turned and walked back to the main stage, presumably to watch the remainder of the morning's duels. Her little troop quickly followed, leaving Fiolya and I free to wander back toward the tent with my things in it.

We made it there at about the same time as Merrill and Petrice arrived, both of them fussing over me as usual. The former insisted on checking each of my cuts to make sure that the potions had worked, while the latter forced me to sit down before shoving a heavy bowl of soup into my hands.

I wasn't allowed to get up until I'd finished it, not even to make getting my shirt and armor on easier. I grumbled as they tugged the clothing over my head, bustling all around me as if I really was some poncy noble instead of just being me.

My complaining increased when Petrice poked my ribs every time I slowed down eating the the vegetable heavy stew. "There, it's done. Happy?"

"You feel better, oui?" Petrice said when I handed the empty bowl back to her. "You're always complaining, my lady."

"You like my complaining." I sighed, rolling my right arm a bit to try and loosen the muscles there. "What's everyone else doing today?"

Petrice hummed, reaching up to tuck her hair behind an ear. "I am due back at the Alienage for the afternoon prayers, and I wish to check on Anders. I believe the Deshyr and the harlot intend to watch the last of the preliminary tilts this afternoon. Yourself?"

"Already told Meredith that I'm heading back to the estate." I said.

Her eyes narrowed, "You still dwell on what that fool told you yesterday?"

It was incredibly hard not to dwell on that conversation. How quickly we'd gone from mutually sharing just what the hell had happened to him demanding I give him fucking reports on what had happened, what was happening. That I'd done too much and needed to just sit around and observe.

And his constant references to the 'golden route'... I didn't know what the hell to make of that. Or the fact that he'd used 'we' a lot. Was he referring to himself and Cousland? Himself and Bethany Hawke? The three of them? Or... shit. Was there even more of us running around? Was that how the other origins had survived? He'd said Duncan had recruited the Elves, and that he'd saved Cousland... so who had gotten Amell out of the tower? Who had saved Brosca?

I had no idea, and the only bastard who could give me answers had been thrown onto a cargo ship heading to Ferelden last night. Well... there was one person who still owed me the answer to a question, but she and I hadn't been on the best terms for the past few months. Both because of what she'd done during the event, and her haphazard attempts to apologize after.

Turned out Spirits of Desire really weren't that great at understanding how to help people recover from fuck-ups of that magnitude.

"The attack on the Alienage wasn't your fault." Merrill murmured, fingers gently cupping my cheek. Seemingly entirely aware of where my thoughts had gone. "It wasn't, lethallan."

"Yes it was." I replied absently.

She let out a frustrated little noise, "By the Dread Wolf. I hate that stupid man. We finally had you starting to accept that it wasn't, and he went and ruined it."

I hadn't accepted anything, I'd just gotten better at not reacting when everyone tried to tell me something that wasn't true.

"Keep her here, please?" Merrill asked Petrice, "I'm going to go tell the others that we're leaving for the day."

"Merrill-"

She was already leaving, darting back outside, leaving me with an amused looking Petrice and Fiolya.

"Lady?" My squire asked, losing her fight to stop from smiling. "Do you want me to come with you, or go back to the Alienage?"

I let out a tired breath, "Escort Petrice home, then take the rest of the day to relax. Just make sure your armor is all cleaned up for tomorrow's inspection."

"I will." She promised, "I'll have your fancy set ready as well."

"Thank you. I... Petrice." The name was a groan as a mug of water was pushed into my hands. "I just had soup!"

She turned her nose up at me, pulling a small roll out of a pocket. "And you drank two potions today. You need plenty of food and water. Drink, and eat this as well."

When I opened my mouth to protest she simply shoved the bread between my lips before I could say a word.

"Mmff!"

Fiolya started giggling so badly that she ducked out of the tent as well. That left the flap open long enough for one of the city's Guards to glance in, the young man's howls of laughter not at all covered when they tugged the cloth closed.

I bit off a chunk of the roll, reaching up to catch the rest of it. Petrice colored slightly, but did not lose the haughty expression as we stared one another down.

"...really?" I demanded once I'd swallowed.

"Eat." She ordered. "I must care for the lady, as she so rarely seems to care for herself."

Never once easing up on my glower, I ate and drank everything she'd pushed at me. We kept up the mutual eye contact until I'd finished, setting the mug on the ground beside the stool, and rose to my feet.

She silently offered me her arm, and I just as silently slid mine through the crook of hers.

Outside we found Merrill returning with Hawke, Fiolya already greeting them. I wasn't really sure why Hawke had decided to leave early as well, but I supposed I'd find out once we made it back to the estate.

Hawke looked incredibly amused to see me at Petrice's side, whispering what might have been a question to Merrill, who giggled and whispered a reply into her ear.

Fortunately it was a short walk over to where a mix of wagons and carriages were running a taxi service to and from Hightown. Ignoring most of them, we tracked down one being operated by the Merchant's Guild, the Dwarven driver waving us into the back without a word when we approached.

I must have been more tired than I'd thought. That or it was the stomach full of bread and soup... either way I found myself drifting off, head falling onto Petrice's shoulder. It wasn't until we'd arrived at the Enclave that she gently nudged me awake.

She gently kissed the back of my hand when we made to part ways there, then squeaked when I tugged her closer, getting onto my toes to kiss her cheek, her jawline, and finally tugging her high collar down enough to kiss her neck as she shivered.

And if my teeth nipped at the skin there... well. It was an honest mistake.

"Maeve!"

"Payback." I whispered, finally letting her go, smirking at the tomato like color to her cheeks. When I spoke again it was at normal volume. "I'll see you tomorrow. Get her home, Fiolya."

"Yes, my lady." The teen was giggling again, tugging at a thoroughly flustered looking Petrice. "Come on, Revered Mother."

Petrice huffed, still wildly blushing, and beat a rapid retreat along with my squire.

That left three of us to start heading for the Tethras estate. Hawke managed to keep her mouth shut for about twenty feet before she burst out laughing, "By the bloody Maker. Trying to seduce a Revered Mother, Maeve?"

"Just a game we play." I smiled, shaking my head. "She'll never break her vows."

Hawke snickered, "That was more than a game. You wanted to make her stay up tonight wishing she'd never said any silly vows. Maybe even make her think about sneaking into your bed to break them."

"Oh no, she doesn't." Merrill shook her head quickly. "Everyone agrees that she's going to be with Isabella."

I groaned. "No we didn't."

Naturally they both ignored me, Hawke still grinning. "When was that decided?"

Merrill hummed, reaching up to tap her chin with a finger. "I think when they first met, and Maeve started drooling at the table. Or maybe it was the second time, when I kept catching her with a kind of vague smile when she stared at Isabella's smirk."

That got us another round of raucous laughs from Hawke, and heat to my own face. "Merrill!"

"You did!" She giggled. "And you both get along really well, and you both mostly act the same... though she tries to hide that she cares about everyone more than you do."

Hawke's laughter trailed off, her eyebrows rising. "Isabella actually cares about something besides her ship and herself?"

A quick nod from Merrill. "She really does! She hides it though, and really does her best to make you think she doesn't. I don't really know why... I keep trying to ask her but she never answers. Just distracts me by teaching me things like how to do body shots."

I let out a long groan, "Merrill, you told me that she didn't teach you that."

It was her turn to pink. "Um... oh look! We're here!"

"Uh huh. Did you do a shot out of her cleavage, or out of her belly button?" I asked.

"Do you think they'll have lunch for us? I'm starving." She babbled, not looking anywhere near me. "And we should get a bath prepared for you so you'll be nice and cleaned up after your swording event. It was really exciting, even if I wasn't really sure what was going on. And Varric was no help at all."

Hawke snorted, glancing at me while Merrill frantically knocked on the door. "Five sovereign says Isabella had it between her tits."

"This is Isabella we're talking about." I countered, crossing my arms while we waited for the butler to open the door. "Ten gold says Merrill did one from Isabella's cleavage, and then Isabella did one off of Merrill's stomach."

Merrill's mortified whine had me snort in triumph. "Knew it. I take payment in coin or booze, Hawke."

"I never accepted the bet." Hawke countered with a grin, following us in when the door finally opened.

The recently expanded staff had finally gotten caught up on keeping the too-large place cleaned and dusted, leaving the air smelling fresh rather than musty inside. A far-too-embarrassed Merrill promptly slipped off, saying something about lunch, leaving Hawke and I to chuckle and split up as well.

She wandered toward the lounges, while I stopped by the guest room I kept some spare clothing in, and then it was off to the baths. Merrill had been right about that at least; I badly needed one.

Filling the massive tub with water heated by a boiler didn't take all that long, and within a few minutes I was seated within it, feeling deliciously comfortable. Using one of the small bars of soap, I cleaned myself first, only then letting my head fall back onto the pillow positioned on the tub's edge.

I finally had some to relax, to think. To categorize everything I was dealing with.

Gregory Smith was, naturally, dominating that list right now. His attitude problem aside, he now knew that I was here. That I was a fellow Earthling. The fact that Bethany Hawke knew everything meant he'd probably tell her the same, which meant my secret would be soon shared by three people.

Insert old adage about secrets and three people.

There was going to be trouble there, I just knew it. There was also his references to things he'd wanted to get done outside of Ferelden. To seeing Kirkwall with his own eyes. And the oddity of the fact that he'd traveled with the Wardens rather than with Hawke. True, he and Hawke didn't seem to get along, but she was still his future sister-in-law. Still Hawke. I assumed she'd have told him that Varric had invited them to stay here... if I'd been in his place I'd have accepted in a heartbeat.

So why hadn't he? Why hadn't he wanted to meet Varric, someone critical to two entirely different plot lines?

"Asset." I mumbled, staring at the ceiling. "Reports. What the hell are you up to?"

The stone didn't respond, not that I expected it to.

What was in Kirkwall that was critical to the broader storylines? The Qunari, I supposed. He'd been at his most commanding regarding them... but so far as I knew, no matter how Kirkwall turned out, it didn't affect the Qun's broader policies regarding the rest of Thedas. I couldn't imagine that Greg had converted to the Qun... hoped not at least. So that was a mystery.

I supposed he might want to try and find Corypheus, tighten up the blood wards... but again, with Wardens? Approaching Corypheus with Wardens was a suicidal maneuver, and since Hawke wasn't a mage, Greg would need Bethany with if he was hoping to refresh their father's old magic. And to even find the prison. A second mystery.

Maybe his memory was better than mine, maybe he knew more side-quests from Inquisition or something. Or maybe he'd actually read the novels and knew something I didn't.

I mulled on those thoughts for a little while before pushing them aside. Whatever he'd been up to had to be ruined with his absence. Well, Cousland was still around, but I wasn't sure what a small group of Wardens would want to do in Kirkwall.

"There's two major plots left." My hands grabbed the sides of the tub, water dripping as I pushed myself to my feet. "Isabella's relic, and the Anders and Meredith route. What can a group of Wardens do for those two? I have to assume those will be their focus, because I just don't remember enough about the side crap."

Grabbing a rough towel, I dried myself as quickly as I could in the cool air.

For the late-game events, Greg's plan to disrupt it was pretty obviously to keep Anders away from the city. Abducting him, forcing him back to Ferelden, was definitely a goal the Wardens would be focusing on. We'd have to keep him hidden and safe until they left. Even after that, we'd probably want to track any Wardens coming and going from the city just to be safe.

And as far as the second act went... I supposed the Wardens could try to find the Qunari's sacred book, give it to the Arishok. That would track with Greg's words from yesterday. That could lead to a few problems... Isabella would lose her mind, for one. Whether or not the entire Qunari group actually left would be another. I wasn't really sure what to do about that, except to hope they didn't know who had the book right now.

I tossed the towel aside, padding over to the shelf I'd put my clothes on. "Two objectives then. Keep Anders free, find the book before they do."

A few quiet requests last month, to the elves working at bars and inns near the docks, had gotten me the actual name of the pirate; Wall-Eyed Sam. Apparently he was more smuggler than pirate these days, and not the reputable sort either. I wasn't sure if he had the book yet or not, but a waitress had been able to get me his address.

I'd been holding off until I could think of a good excuse for Isabella, but it seemed that I was out of time.

"Time to plan a burglary. Like the old days." I murmured, considering wrapping my chest before deciding to hell with it. Commando it was. "Find where he stores his goods, get the book, hide the book somewhere. Have to do that as soon as possible, make sure the Wardens don't have a chance to get it first."

I'd have to sit on it for a while, until I could figure out a good way to give it to Isabella that wouldn't make her freak out. Plus... dammit. I didn't want her to leave Kirkwall, and giving her the book would definitely see her return to her career in piracy. Still... it was what she really wanted. Who was I to deny her that?

Especially when it would spite both the Qun and Gregory. I was always up for the former, and the latter sounded good after how yesterday had gone.

Tossing on a loose shirt and what passed for slacks, I slipped out of the bathroom with my old clothes tucked under one arm. Dropping those off in the same guest room, I made my way to the lounge for more relaxation and me-time.

I walked in to find that Hawke had apparently beat me to it. She'd kicked off her boots, bare feet up on a stool as she stared into the fire. A half-empty glass of something amber was in one hand, her cheek resting on the other. Griffon the Mabari was lounging at her side, though he bounded up on my entrance.

"Hey boy." I knelt down, offering him a hand.

The war-hound woofed at me, padding over to lazily smack my fingers with a paw. He panted happily when I gave him a quick scratch behind the ears. Looking over his head let me see Hawke's eyes flick briefly our way, then return to the fireplace. "Varric has a lovely bath, doesn't he?"

"He does." I agreed, ruffling Griffon's collar one more time before standing back up. The massive hound escorted me over to the chair next to Hawke's, then circled back around to lay at her feet once again. "What are we drinking?"

"Something strong and Antivan."

I felt an eyebrow go up, accepting the bottle when she passed it over along with another glass. I poured some, setting the bottle on the end table between us, then took a slow sip.

"Hmm. One of the rums." I savored the burn on its way down, leaning back. "You all right?"

It was Hawke's turn to arch an eyebrow, turning a bit to face me properly. "I'm fine, but where'd that come from?"

"You were laughing and giggling before I went to the bath. Now you're sitting alone, trying to get smashed." I shrugged. "Easy to guess that you're not all right."

She eyed me for a long moment, then she gave me an order of her own. "Put your feet up like mine."

I eyed her right back. "Love to. You're a foot taller than me."

"...right." Her legs shifted, pulling the stool to a better angle so that I could kick my feet up onto it. Then she pushed her chair back a bit, letting her get her feet back without having to contort her longer body.

"We talking about it now that we're both relaxed?" I asked, watching as she idly poked my smaller foot with a warm toe. Felt the warmth of her skin and the warm burn of the sipping liquor working together to ease some of the stress. Griffon watched us both before laying his head down, huffing out a huge sigh and closing his eyes, apparently ready to nap.

Hawke sipped some rum, smiled down at her dog's antics, then shrugged. "You're fun and adorable, but we hardly know each other."

I could only shrug, leaning back as she idly played footsie with me. "Fair enough. Just offering."

"Why offer at all?" She asked, "You hardly know me either."

A good question from her perspective. "Because you're fun and adorable, and I'd like to get to know you. You seem like you'd be a good friend to have."

Her head tilted, making her bangs cover up one eye. "Because I'm an Arlessa?"

"No, because you slept with Isabella and didn't try to murder her when you saw her again." I quipped. "Super-human levels of self-restraint there."

"Heh. I am a woman of many talents." She smiled, letting her head fall back against the cushions, feet going still once more. I'd just started to zone out, thinking the conversation over, when she ambushed me with another question, "Was Greg trying to fuck you yesterday?"

I nearly choked on a sip of rum, and had to very carefully swallow it down. "...no, he wasn't."

"You can tell me if he was." She said, a deadly quiet in her voice. "It wouldn't be the first time he slept around on my sister. I'll deal with him for you if he was trying to pressure you into it."

I swallowed again, shaking my head a little before I gave her a partial truth. "No. It wasn't about sex."

"You're sure?" She demanded.

"Yes. It was... ugh. He... tried to order me to send him reports on what's going on in Kirkwall. On what Anders is doing, the Qunari... pretty much everything. I don't know why, but he wanted me to be his spy in the city."

Her jaw clenched, rum rising to her lips. The glass didn't come down until it was empty. "Maker's balls that man. I wonder if that's how he's doing it."

I blinked, "Doing what?"

"Supposedly he has visions, knows far more than he should about people." She let out a frustrated little noise. "He tell you about that?"

"Yeah."

"Bunch of bullshit." Hawke growled, grabbing the bottle, refilling her glass as she vented. "Cousland and Bethany believe him, but I never have. He tries to use them to impress people, get them to do what he wants. It pisses me off every time it works, and it works too bloody often for my liking."

"Why?" I asked quietly. "Is he usually right?"

"...irritatingly, yeah." Those brilliant eyes glared into the fireplace. "He helped Cousland pull off things that I would never have thought possible. Gave us advice when we all split apart that... ended up being important when we were at the Circle, and then at Redcliffe. Warned us about crap we might not have seen coming plenty of times. Probably saved plenty of lives. I'd appreciate it more if he wasn't so... damned smug about it. Always acting like he knows what's about to happen, and that if we all just listened to him things would work out perfectly. No matter how many people we have to manipulate and control along the way."

Her scowl was ferocious enough that I didn't dare interrupt. "I hate people like that. The ones that try and take away your choice. Freedom to make our own way is the one greatest gift the Maker gave us, and he's always trying to mold everyone around him to do what he thinks they should. Even if that's not what's best for them."

I took a mouthful of my own drink, clearing my throat before replying, trying to get a little more information on things he may have fucked up. "He get things wrong before?"

"Not as often as I would like, but he has." There was a pause, then a small grin returned to her lips, "He nearly shit himself the day Gamlen showed up in Amaranthine. I wish there'd been a painter there to capture that expression."

My own snicker followed. And the bastard had only had himself to blame for keeping Hawke in Ferelden, letting her win fortune and glory. Enough to pay off Gamlen's debt and get him out of the city.

"How is Gamlen doing?" I asked, hoping to ease the tension a little more. "Last I saw him he was half-dead from blood loss."

"He's-wait." Hawke sat up, blinking rapidly. "Maker's balls, you're the Elf that saved him!"

I blinked a few times. "Um, yes? That was the first job our whole group really did together. Except for Anders, he wasn't here yet."

She shook her head, "Damned uncle couldn't even remember your name. I've got a letter somewhere from mother for you, gushing about how thankful she is. And then another one from his daughter."

"His... daughter?" I asked blankly. Gamlen had a daughter? Shit. I must have completely forgotten that side quest, or I'd have tried to track her down during that entire affair.

"She showed up about a month after Gamlen, looking to murder him." She chuckled again, good humor returning.

Hawke perked up more after that, regaling me with a story of how Charade Amell had apparently led the family on a merry treasure hunt around Amaranthine for more than a month. How everyone had been incredibly confused before Charade had realized Gamlen had never even known he had a daughter. How Leandra had invited the girl in to live with them without hesitation, doting on her niece and making damned sure that Gamlen started shaping up to set a better example for his daughter. Hawke had found that amusing even before she'd realized that archery was apparently in the blood of the Amell family.

Charade was nearly as good as Hawke from how she described it, and the only reason her cousin hadn't come with to compete was because she was waiting on a new bow after her last one was broken in a bar brawl. The two trained together every couple of days, wowing the city's guard, and had even started attracting commoners who came out just to watch a pair of beautiful women pull off impossible trick-shots.

Talking about the appreciative crowds had led into how Carver was dating the daughter of a wealthy merchant who he'd apparently saved when she'd fallen into the harbor. And who evidently loved nothing more than to sneak in to watch him train in the mornings, almost drooling whenever she saw him carrying around massive weights as exercise.

Leandra was entirely supportive of the match, but was being patient, letting her children marry for love just as she had. Hawke went off on a bit of a tangent there, venting about the number of men trying to win her hand in the wake of the Blight.

"Blue blooded idiots?" I guessed, already on my second glass of rum. I was buzzed enough to have started playing footsie on my own accord, enjoying the way Hawke flexed her muscles for me whenever I trailed my toes down her calf.

"Like you wouldn't believe." She groaned theatrically. "I like men well enough, but Maker's balls this is a bad generation for Ferelden. All of the fun ones are already taken, or are too old for me."

I snorted, "Good thing you've got Carver to keep the family name going."

"Heh, true. At least my lug of a brother will be good for something." She paused, sipped her drink, then sighed. "I suppose that's unfair. He's grown up quite a bit over the past year. More than Bethany has, that's for sure."

Even half-drunk I knew better than to bring up her sister. Instead I held my glass toward her, "To foolish brothers."

"To foolish brothers." We clanked them, then drank. "You're running low again, can't have that."

"Thanks."

I watched as she topped it off a bit, smiling until she asked, "What about you? Sounds like you've got your own lug of a brother. Any other family waiting back home? A devoted husband or a loving mistress?"

My smile flickered and died at once, foot going still. "No."

"Oh come on." Hawke cajoled, still smiling. Her toes brushed the top of my foot, clearly trying to restart our little flirtation. "I just told you all about mine. Surely someone so talented already found a match."

"I'm not talented, especially when it comes to relationships. Bad luck and poor choices." I brought the glass up, knocking some of it back, hoping she'd take the hint and drop it. "Ah. Not much to say on the family either."

She frowned at me over her drink, giving my foot an insistent poke with her big toe. "Come on. We've spent more than an hour talking about my family, there's got to be something about yours to chat about."

I snorted, the rum fueling my snappish response. "Or there's something all right. Dad stole from the wrong man, and ended up dead in prison when I was twelve. When I was fifteen my brother Matthew vanished without a trace. Never found or heard from him again."

Hawke's eyes widened, "Shit. I didn't-"

"Fergus, that's my oldest brother, dove into a whiskey bottle after that, and he's never come out. I don't know how he pays for his house and I don't want to know. Our mother..." I scoffed, "She's on the third man who treats her like shit, and she was already cheating on him with a fourth."

"Maeve-"

The alcohol drove me on, more words tumbling out. "The less said about my cousins the better. I was literally the only one of thirty or so in the family who had a steady job, a clean apartment. A chance for, you know, a not fucked up life. I stopped talking to them all, got away from the shit neighborhood. I had a chance to... I don't know. Make it. And then I went to sleep one night and woke up next to fucking Tevinter."

I caught sight of her hand creeping for my glass just before she could grab it. Growling, I brought it up to my lips, downing the rest of the rum in three long gulps before she could.

"Maker's breath." She grabbed the glass as I coughed, Griffon waking up to whip his head between us. "I'm sorry for asking. Varric... he didn't tell me any of that."

Clearing my throat, I slumped back in my chair, watching as she took the bottle over to the other side of her chair as well.

"He only knows about the missing brother." I muttered, turning back to watch the smoldering fire. "Merrill knows the rest, but she's the only one who does. No one else has ever asked."

I felt Hawke turn away as well. Her voice went quiet. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." I mumbled, closing my eyes. Felt Griffon nudging my hand with his head, letting my fingers trail over his ears. "I... thank you for talking with me. And the booze."

"You're welcome. Thanks for keeping me company." She trailed her foot over mine one last time, then let hers go still once more. "We should get you some water, and maybe something light to eat."

"Probably smart, surprised I haven't blacked out yet." I paused, frowning. "Crap. Merrill will be here to yell at us for getting drunk before lunch soon."

Hawke hummed. "Do we hide, or do we pretend we were fooling around? Or do we actually start fooling around?"

The door opened before I could think of a reply to any of those.

"Lethallan!" Merrill shouted in exasperation, already stomping over. "No! Not again!"

I sighed, and braced myself for the lecture I knew was coming.